<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Stranded by needles</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850084">Stranded</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles'>needles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Detective drabbles [62]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:22:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,389</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/needles/pseuds/needles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A deserted VIP lounge in the airport offers little entertainment but lots of time for introspection.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Detective drabbles [62]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stranded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the hundredth time Bokuto looked up at the information screen in the VIP lounge and sighed, then he trudged back to where Keiji was calmly reading a book and dropped into the seat next to him, causing the whole couch to jolt and almost shaking the book from his hand.</p>
<p>“This sucks.” He complained.</p>
<p>Keiji just rolled his eyes and carried on reading.</p>
<p>“I mean.” He continued, in an incredulous tone. “It’s dust, frigging dust, so damned fine you can hardly even see it and every airport shuts down across the continent!”</p>
<p>Keiji lowered his book. “I already explained why Bokuto san, would you like me to tell you again?”</p>
<p>“No thanks Einstein, just tell me when it’s gonna stop.”</p>
<p>“You know that’s impossible to predict, and with the wind patterns set for a few days....”</p>
<p>Bokuto pouted. “Not helping Akaashi.”</p>
<p>“Then feel free to drag the volcano into an interrogation room and grill it if you think you can get a better answer yourself.” Keiji flipped over another page of his book.</p>
<p>“Ok, ok. You know what, I’m just gonna try and get some more sleep. I really can’t believe there wasn’t a single hotel room available anywhere in London.”</p>
<p>Keiji sighed. “Heathrow handles over 180,000 passengers a day, they have been closed now for two days, it’s hardly surprising that all the rooms are taken. Besides, you are the one that insisted we stay in the terminal yesterday, had we tried to get a room when I first suggested it, we may well have been more fortunate and we wouldn’t still be here this evening.”</p>
<p>Bokuto scowled. “I might have known it would be my fault. Goodnight Akaashi.” He got up, stretched himself out stiffly and lay down across the opposite couch; luckily, they had the place to themselves. Clearly every other VIP passenger had more sense than to get stuck in the terminal. At least the couches were better than the seats for the regular passengers.</p>
<p>Keiji looked at him. The distance was painful. Time was, not so long ago, they would have shared one couch. Now he was feet away. His room at the hotel had been on another floor. Even on the plane from Rome they’d had the aisle between them. He no longer walked with his hand to Keiji’s back and even in the Italian heat that felt cold.  Keiji knew why. At first, he hadn’t realised what it meant when Bokuto said he had to move on after Keiji turned down his confession. He’d assumed that if Bokuto would continue to work with him things would stay the same. His comfortable status quo would be maintained. Now he knew just how wrong he had been to think that. </p>
<p>It wasn’t the occasional dates that hurt so much, although they were bad. Keiji spent those nights curled up on his couch with a large scotch or two until he was so tired and numb enough to fall into a dreamless sleep. What really hurt was the absence of all the little things that he had done, that Keiji had taken as the things partners did because that was what Bokuto had insisted they were. At first, he was angry with him that he had deceived him like that when really, they had been so much more; and then he was angry with himself for not being able to recognise that deception. Now he was just hurting from the loss. The loss of late night visits, lunches at the diner, drinks after work, Bokuto’s hand on his back, bro hugs, that he now knew had been no such thing. Bokuto had removed himself from Keiji’s life outside of working hours and it hurt.</p>
<p>Keiji had never realised how lonely his life had been before Bokuto invaded it six years ago, and now that he had gone it had hit him hard. But he was a survivor, he had lived like it before and he told himself he could do it again. What really twisted the knife was the knowledge that he had brought it on himself by being a coward. By being too scared of his own feelings, by having so little trust in himself not to hurt Bokuto that he had ended up hurting them both.</p>
<p>Keiji closed his book and sighed; the lights were dim and outside the stars were appearing in the deep blue sky. He put his book down and stretched out on his own couch, feeling cold and alone. A lump came to his throat but he forced it back down, it was no use crying over spilt milk, he had made his bed now he had to lie in it, alone. <em>‘And who taught you to be so idiomatic?’</em> jeered his heart. Telling it to shut up he closed his eyes.</p>
<p>An hour later he was still awake. He tossed and turned, this way and that, unable to settle. Why should his brain suddenly choose this moment to parse endlessly over the last five years, he demanded? Every time he closed his eyes images of his partner would appear; rescuing him from killers; pulling him from the ground when he and Konoha were buried alive; comforting him when he identified his murdered mother’s remains; telling him about the difference between crappy sex and making love; promising him there was someone out there for him; telling him that everything happened eventually; telling him it was all worth it. </p>
<p>And he had thrown it all away. </p>
<p>And he would do anything to have it back.</p>
<p>But he never could. Bokuto would never risk it again. Keiji had hurt him too badly he knew that now, and his shoulders shook as silent tears began to flow uncontrollably.</p>
<p>The couch sank as it took the extra weight, then a pair of arms wrapped around him and a soothing voice whispered in his ear that it was alright, Keiji was safe, he was here. </p>
<p>A dream. It had to be a dream, Bokuto never held him now. But he felt so warm and Keiji could smell his cologne.</p>
<p>Suddenly Keiji pushed himself up and shook him off, “I’m fine Bokuto san. You don’t have to look after me anymore. I’m not your responsibility, we’re not at work now,” he said, rubbing his face with his sleeve to dry it.</p>
<p>Bokuto winced. “Don’t say that Akaashi.” </p>
<p>“You’ve moved on remember?” Keiji rummaged in his pants for a tissue and blew his nose. “I can look after myself.”</p>
<p>Bokuto’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t go on like this Akaashi. I thought I could work with you but I can’t do it like this.” He sounded beaten.</p>
<p>Keiji knew this would come, Bokuto obviously couldn’t stand to be around him anymore. “You want to split up our partnership?” he whispered.</p>
<p>Bokuto sighed. “I can’t see any alternative Akaashi, I can’t move on when I see you every day and know that you don’t feel the same way, it’s killing me.”</p>
<p>Bokuto still had feelings for him?</p>
<p>Keiji needed to make sure, his grasp of the subtleties of human interaction was shaky at best and he knew that he had to get this right. He had to know for sure. He took a deep breath and braced himself for a rejection. “Do you still love me Bokuto san?”</p>
<p>Bokuto stared at the floor. “I’ll always love you Akaashi, that’s why I can’t be around you like this, it hurts too much.”</p>
<p>“What if I said I wanted to try?”  Keiji asked.</p>
<p>Bokuto lifted his head. “Try?” </p>
<p>“Try and make us work.”</p>
<p>Bokuto glanced at his pale face in the half light, still wary. “Why Akaashi?”</p>
<p>Understanding that Bokuto needed to hear the truth as desperately as Keiji had, he opened his heart. “Because I’m hurting too, and I’m lonely, and now I understand why.” He gave a wry laugh. “As Yukie once said I’ve finally caught up to my own reality.” Keiji turned his face to him. “I love you Bokuto san.”</p>
<p>Bokuto reached out one hand and cupped his still damp face. “Is it worth it Akaashi?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>As Bokuto’s lips captured his in a slow, passionate exploration Keiji felt wetness on his face too. Moisture that came not from Keiji’s tears but Bokuto’s own. Tears he realised Bokuto was still shedding. Tears of joy.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>